


What's Your Type?

by cosimageekhaus



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel
Genre: Drabble, F/F, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosimageekhaus/pseuds/cosimageekhaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by anon on tumblr: Cartinelli- at a bar and Peggy tries to pick out Angie's type of dude but surprise Angie isn't into dudes and she's into Peggy and Peggy is like 'thank god'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Your Type?

“Alright, what about that one?”

“You know I love you, English, but he is bald and could be my father.”

They both laughed, perhaps a bit louder than they usually would, but this was their fifth round of drinks, and the game of guessing Angie’s type has long stopped making sense. Both of them decided to put all of their worries behind, even if it meant not thinking about stressful auditions and psychotic Russian assassins. They cleaned up nice that night, with Angie wearing a flower-patterned dress and Peggy dark red one, and they were a target of many suitors from the moment they stepped into the bar.

However, as the night progressed, it seemed like they stopped paying attention to their surroundings, and were rather leaning towards each other, all smile-faced and wide-eyed.

“His suit does look expensive though, I’d chance to say he even has a driver that could take you to the theater.” Peggy continued, quirking her eyebrow in that teasing way that Angie loved.

“If he’s such an attractive fella, English, why don’t you go for it?” Angie shot back, raising her hand to the bartender, nearly slipping off her chair, had it not been for Peggy to catch her just in time.

“Well, perhaps I would, but I’d hate leaving you on your own. After all, we are here to find someone for you, not me.”

“Right, married to your work and all that.” Angie waved her hand, while she held onto the counter with the other, you know, just to be on the safe side. “I hate to break it to you, Peg, but he’s definitely not my type.”

“Alright then, I give up. What is your type? I think I’ve suggested every man in this place.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Angie giggled suddenly.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t really think about men that way, English.”

At first, there was no response. Peggy stared at her for a bit, then raised her eyebrows, then had the corner of her mouth quirk up into a small smile.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of girls too, Peg. I’ve seen… -hic- I’ve seen it.”

Another moment of silence. And then, Peggy looked up from her drink, tipping her head to the side just a little. “And what if I have?”

It was a good enough response for the Italian. Her own hand slipped from the counter and it gently placed itself on Peggy’s knee.

“Then, English, I'll have to tell you that I might have found my type here tonight after all.”


End file.
